The Weapon
by AlElizabeth
Summary: AU after Season 5, Episode 3 "Free To Be You And Me". Sam takes Dean's advice and leaves. He doesn't get far though, before Tim and Reggie make a reappearance and this time they are not going to take 'no' for an answer.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One **

Sam left Garber, Oklahoma without looking back. He bought a ticket for the earliest bus out of town, not caring what its destination was. As Sam stared out the window of the Greyhound, he tried not to think of his brother's last words to him. He tried not to dwell on his brother's anger.

Sam had called Dean; seeking help, consolation, sympathy and instead his brother had made him feel even worse than before. Dean had acted as though it was Sam's fault he was Lucifer's true vessel.

_Pick a hemisphere. _

Dean's words echoed in Sam's head, drowning out the sounds of the other passengers on the bus.

Dean didn't want Sam around anymore, didn't want Sam to be anywhere near him; so Sam would do just as his brother advised: He'd go as far away as possible, become invisible and maybe then Dean would be happy.

_W_

"Next stop, Fort Worth," the driver's voice startled Sam awake. He peered out the bus widow with gritty eyes and yawned loudly.

Sam sighed sadly and rubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted. Between the fight in the bar with Tim and Reggie, Lucifer's late-night revelation, and the disastrous call to his brother, Sam hadn't managed to get much sleep the night before.

Sam tried stretching in the confines of the bus seat and decided that he would get off at the next city, take stock of the situation, maybe even rent a motel room and sleep for a few hours before heading south again. South seemed like a good direction to go in as any, at least it was warm, and Sam had never been to South America before.

_Pick a hemisphere._

Sam grimaced as Dean's words rang in his ears once more.

Resting his head against the window, Sam watched the streets zoom past, his eyes hot with unshed tears of sadness and anger.

_W_

Sam stepped down from the bus along with a handful of other passengers. He stood with his duffle bag on his shoulder for a moment, breathing in the dusty, arid air and looked around at the men and women waiting for their own buses to enter the terminal.

Shifting the duffle into a more comfortable position, Sam strolled through the crowd and into the air conditioned bus depot. Weaving in between groups of fellow travelers, Sam spotted a display case full of brochures and maps. Making a beeline toward the pamphlets, Sam paused when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket.

Fishing his phone out, Sam checked the Caller ID, saw it was Bobby and decided to at least let the old hunter know he was still this side of the grass.

"Sam! Damn boy, where the hell are you?" Bobby snapped worriedly when Sam greeted him.

"In the south," Sam said vaguely, eyes actively pursuing the maps of Fort Worth and the surrounding area.

"Are you alright? Dean told me about Lucifer," Bobby asked.

"I'm sure he did," Sam answered, "Did he tell you he pretty much told me to stay as far away from him as possible?"

"Sam," Bobby chastised, "We both know Dean and we both know he says some real stupid things when he's angry. He doesn't mean them, you know. I'm worried about you. Why don't you come up to my place and we can figure this whole mess out?"

Sam declined the offer, "I can't Bobby; Dean made it clear he doesn't want me around anymore."

"Boy, stop being an idjit and come on home!" Bobby begged and Sam sucked in a deep breath. He wanted nothing more than to just turn around now and take the next bus all the way up to Sioux Falls but he couldn't do that. Not with his brother hating him and Lucifer chasing him. No, it was best if he was alone.

"I'm sorry Bobby," Sam apologized, feeling a lump of emotion grow in his throat, "Maybe we'll see each other around sometime."

"Sam, don't-" The old hunter protested but Sam closed his phone, breaking the connection.

Sam gathered up a selection of pamphlets and headed back outside, intent on finding a cheap motel so he could rest for a few hours.

_SPN_

Bobby stared at his cell phone for a moment before cursing. What the hell was that boy thinking?

Grumbling, the old hunter rolled himself into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

Bobby loved Sam and Dean like they were his own sons but sometimes he really wanted to kill them.

"Those idjits are going to be the death of me," Bobby sighed and set his beer aside unopened.

He rubbed his face with one hand and picked up his phone again. He tried dialing Sam's number but it just went straight to voicemail.

"C'mon," Bobby hissed, "You know you can't do this alone, boy."

Giving up, Bobby dialed Dean's number instead and to his surprise, received an answer.

"What's up, Bobby?" Dean said in a slightly annoyed tone.

"What's up? You tell me what's up Dean Winchester! Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Bobby barked, angry that the eldest Winchester had driven his brother away.

"What are you talking about, Bobby?" Dean asked. Bobby could hear the screeching of the wind on the other end of the phone and wondered where Dean was going.

"Sam," Bobby growled, "I'm talking about Sam. You hurt him Dean, badly and I think you should call him and apologize for whatever you said to him!"

"Sorry Bobby," Dean answered, "No can do. Sam was the one who left in the first place; he was the one who wanted out. I'm not going to go on some wild goose chase to try and find him."

Bobby's grip on the phone tightened incrementally, "You know you could find Sam if you really wanted to. Don't act like you're the only one that this is hurting."

"Sam's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Dean argued.

"You know Sam takes things to heart too much," Bobby tried but Dean snorted with derision.

"And how is that my problem, Bobby? Sam didn't want to be a hunter anymore so I let him go," Dean explained, "Who am I to stop him from chasing his dream of having a normal life?"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Dean," Bobby said in a dangerous voice.

"Ooooh so you're talking about the Lucifer thing," Dean said as if the realization had just suddenly dawned on him.

"Tell him what he's won, Johnny," Bobby snarled sarcastically.

"Sam brought this on himself, Bobby, you know he did and this time I'm not going to be the one to clean up his mess," Dean growled back at the older hunter.

"I told Sam time and again that he was going down a dangerous slope but did he listen to me? Nooooo, why would Sam care what I had to say when Ruby was so much more _interesting_?" Dean lamented angrily.

"Get over it!" Bobby shouted, "Yes, Sam made some mistakes and he messed up but that's because he's human for Christ's sake! He's human just like you, Dean. Don't act all high and mighty because Sam stepped out of line! You're brother needs you Dean, now more than ever. What happened to the Sam and Dean I used to know, huh? What happened to the brothers who would do anything for each other, forgive each other no matter what? Dean Winchester, if I had my legs I'd put my boot so far up your ass you'd be tasting leather for a month!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Bobby," Dean said quietly, his anger still simmering, "Sam went beyond the point of no return. He started the Apocalypse! The world is going to fucking end because of him! And you think having a chick-flick moment with him is going to make it all better?"

Bobby gritted his teeth in frustration, "Look Dean, you and Sam have always been better as a team. So Sam is Lucifer's true vessel, so what? You're Michael's meat-suit. If you're so worried about your brother saying the big 'yes', than why don't you get your ass in gear and find him to make sure he doesn't say the magic word, huh?"

"We are safer if we stay away from each other," Dean explained, "The bad guys always manage to use us against one another and I can't let that happen anymore. This is better for everyone in the end."

"Just think about what I've said," Bobby pleaded, "At least do that."

"Sure," Dean muttered, the two hunters not even bothering to say goodbye to one another before breaking the connection.

Bobby set the phone aside and stared at his unopened beer can for a moment.

"I'm gonna need something a little stronger than a brew," He muttered before wheeling himself over to his liquor cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Jim Beam.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to AlxM for helping me out with this story.**

**2. Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Sam unlocked the door to his motel room and dropped his duffle bag unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. He peered around the room half-heartedly before crossing to the bathroom and filling up one of the plastic cups the motel provided with cold water.

Sam stared at his reflection in the mirror as he gulped down the icy liquid, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and brow furrowed from stress.

Sighing sadly, Sam turned away from the bathroom and sat down on the bed farthest from the door. A wan smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Sam realized that even in Dean's absence, he still took the bed his brother would want him to.

Sam leaned back against the lumpy mattress and stared up at the water-stained popcorn ceiling wondering what to do next.

_W_

Evening found Sam sitting alone at a local watering-hole a few blocks from his motel. He stared blindly at the seat opposite him- where Dean should have been sitting- while his fingers shredded the label of his untouched bottle of beer.

The bar was loud and bustling. It seemed as if every cowpoke in Fort Worth had retired here for a night of drinking and dancing. The air was stale and smelt of spilt beer and sweat. Billy Ray Cyrus lamented over his 'achy breaky heart' from a Jukebox that had seen better days. The floor was sticky with God-knew-what and the lighting left something to be desired.

Sam didn't notice any of this though. All he could think about was his brother. Dean should be here. Should be guzzling down his fourth beer and hitting on all the pretty girls in low-rise jeans and cowboy boots.

_Pick a hemisphere._

Sam ground his teeth as his brother's words wormed their way into his head again.

What was he doing here? He should be heading to Mexico by now. Wasn't that the plan?

Tomorrow, Sam told himself; tomorrow I'll cross the border and won't look back. I just need tonight to get some rest.

Sam stared at his beer bottle- the alcohol had long gone warm- and frowned.

_Pick a hemisphere._

Sam sighed and stood, paying for his untouched beer and slipped through the crowd toward the exit.

_W_

The night air was chilly and Sam was glad he had his jacket with him. Light from the bar spilled out onto the sidewalk, painting the concrete a kaleidoscope of red, blue and yellow.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Sam's gaze drifted to his shoes and remained fixed there.

Walking around the corner, Sam thought only about getting back to his motel room where he could catch a few hours of sleep before continuing on south, when the sounds of a struggle alerted him to trouble in a nearby alleyway.

"Go away! I said no!" A scared and angry female voice cried out.

"C'mon baby, don't be like that," A deep masculine voice chuckled, clearly drunk.

Sam peered around the corner of the alley and saw a man towering over a rather small, skinny young woman.

"I said no! Leave me alone!" the girl tugged at the man's hand on her arm.

Sam couldn't just stand by and watch, his legs moved of their own accord and he stepped into the mouth of the alley.

"Hey, douchebag," Sam called out, "She said she doesn't want to go with you."

The man let go of the young woman's arm and approached Sam, "Why don't you mind your own business?"

Sam nodded at the girl as she hurried past him. He smiled; glad that he could do something good for someone.

"You should have kept your nose out of this, buddy," the man growled. It was dark in the alley and difficult for Sam to see but he could tell that he was at least a foot taller than the other man.

"Guess I can't help myself," Sam smirked and easily moved into a fighting stance.

Suddenly stars burst in the young man's vision and he lost his balance, slumping forward as he passed out.

The girl smiled from behind the fallen Winchester, one hand twirling the butt of her pistol.

"That's gonna hurt in the morning," the man, Lloyd, laughed and the young woman stepped over Sam's body.

"That was almost too easy," Alma pressed herself against the other hunter, "We'd better get him to Tim and Reggie before he wakes up."

Lloyd leaned down and kissed Alma, wrapping a brawny arm around her slender waist. The female hunter took her cell phone out and pressed Speed Dial.

"Yeah, Tim, we got him," her sultry voice informed the blond hunter as Lloyd kissed her neck.

Alma smiled, "Glad to help out a friend."

_W_

Sam woke slowly, the back of his head pounding, and blinked groggily at his surroundings.

Sam didn't dare to try and sit up yet. He raised a hand to the nape of his neck and felt his hair matted with sticky blood.

His vision was foggy- due to the blow to the back of his head- and Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

What had happened? The last thing Sam remembered was rescuing that young woman from that drunken prick outside the bar.

Carefully Sam opened his eyes and allowed them to focus. He narrowed them suspiciously when he got a good look at where he was.

The room had a plain cement floor and redbrick walls. There was a small window set high in one wall- too high for Sam to reach and too small for him to climb through- and a single naked bulb casting a dusty light down on him. The door reminded Sam of the one that led to Bobby's panic room- dark, unyielding iron- with no handle on the inside.

As Sam continued to peer around the room, he saw that someone had drawn a Devil's Trap on the floor in black permanent marker- the trap touched the angle where the floor and walls met, leaving only the four corners of the square room free of the trap's power- and a matching one on the ceiling when Sam tilted his head upwards.

This has to be some sort of mistake, Sam thought, I'm not possessed.

He reached out a hand, supporting himself against the brick wall as he stood on unsteady legs. Someone had laid him on an old, stained and lumpy mattress and had removed his shoes and jacket.

Sam shuffled forward, his eyes catching sight of a metal bucket that sat in one corner of the room and wrinkled his nose.

Lurching across the room, Sam leaned against the metal door for a moment as his head swam and his stomach flip-flopped dangerously.

Raising a fist, Sam knocked his hand against the door. The metal gave a dull, sonorous thud that didn't echo.

"Hey!" Sam called out as loudly as he dared- his head spiked with pain as he raised his voice, "Hello? I'm in here! There's been a mistake! I'm not a demon!"

Sam paused, trying to listen through the thick metal. After a moment he decided to try again.

"Hey! Can anybody hear me?" Sam's voice cracked and he coughed, nearly doubling over with its force and the pain in his head.

"Shit," Sam whispered and laid a hand on the door for support. He had no idea where he was or who had locked him in this room. The only thing Sam knew for sure was that whoever was on the other side of the door, they were not a friend.

Gathering up his strength again, Sam slammed the flat of his hand against the door, "Hey! Let me out of here!"

Sam sighed and turned away from the door. It was obvious that no one was going to answer him- not anytime soon, at least- and he crossed the floor to sit heavily on the mattress.

Sam lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, careful not to touch the gash on the back of his head. He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him and Sam lay down on his side on the mattress. All he could do now was wait until whoever was keeping him locked in this room decided to appear and give him some answers.

_SPN_

Dean gulped down his the last mouthful of beer and seriously contemplated ordering another one.

He leaned back against the bench seat and sighed. He had never felt so relaxed before. And it wasn't just because of the beer, either. Dean didn't have Sam to worry about anymore. Dean was on his own and he felt… free.

Dean couldn't help but be glad that Sam had decided to leave. After everything that had happened recently with Ruby and the Apocalypse, Dean and Sam hadn't been acting very much like brothers and their relationship was only getting worse. Now they both had a chance to do what they wanted; Dean could continue hunting, find out a way to stop the end of the world and Sam could live his 'normal life'.

Everything would be better for the Winchester brothers now that they were separated. And as long as things stayed that way, Dean reasoned, nothing could go wrong.

Dean stopped a passing waitress, "Hey Sweetheart, do you think there's another beer in the back for me?"

The young woman smiled and nodded. The patron was certainly nicer and better looking than many of the other guys who flocked to the bar. As she grabbed a bottle she scribbled her name and number onto a small white napkin and handed it over with the alcohol when she returned.

Dean raised an eyebrow when he received his beer and the waitresses' number.

"What time does your shift end?" he asked and twisted open the beer.

The waitress flicked her long hair back over her shoulder and cocked her hip seductively.

Tonight's really shaping up; Dean thought and took a swig of beer as he admired the waitress' butt as she went to check on some other bar flies.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to mb64, cold kagome, sammynanci, doyleshuny, mandancie, babyreaper, BranchSuper, sarah, Souless666, AshleyMarie84, Kailene, MysteryMadchen, maxandkiz, L.A.H.H, SamDeanLover28, Nobody's Love, AlxM, Katlover98 and Guest for reviewing.**

**2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed or favourited this story.**

**3. Please leave a review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Sam's eyes shot open immediately at the sound of a rusty door handle shifting position. Standing up, Sam prepared himself for anything, not sure exactly what or whom he should be ready for.

When Sam's captor slipped into the room, the young man's heart began to pound in his chest- not from fear but from anger- and he curled his hands into fists, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What am I doing here?" Sam demanded, watching Tim closely as the older man moved toward him. Sam didn't see any weapons but that meant nothing when it came to hunters.

"Sorry about knocking you out," Tim ignored Sam's question, "But you have to admit, would you really have come with us otherwise?"

"You have no right to do this," Sam growled, eyes following Tim's movements in case his body language became threatening.

"Why? I'm a hunter and you're… well, _not _a hunter," Tim smiled as he slowly walked forward, his stroll casual and relaxed.

"If this is about your friend," Sam reigned in his anger- for the moment- and tried to speak rationally to Tim, especially since the man definitely had the upper hand in the situation, "I've already told you, I'm sorry about what happened but I can't help you."

Tim shook his head, "This isn't about Steve, Sam. This is about the Apocalypse that you started."

Sam gulped, now a sliver of trepidation slipped into his stomach. He kept the anxiety from his face and posture though; no way was he going to let Tim know he was nervous.

"Tim," Sam began, "I can't help you."

The hunter frowned, "You mean you _won't _help."

"Please," Sam said, "I made a mistake-"

"That you refuse to clean up! That you refuse to take responsibility for!" Tim snapped suddenly, startling Sam.

The younger man backed up until he hit the wall behind him. He had nowhere to run. He didn't doubt that Reggie was outside, maybe even listening into the entire conversation and, hell, they could have invited some of their other friends over for the party.

"What do you want from me?" Sam asked, wincing when his voice cracked.

Tim looked like that cat that had eaten a whole flock of canaries, "I want you to kill every demonic son of a bitch that's out there, Sam. I want you to use to use those freaky powers of yours and get back in the game."

Sam opened his mouth and closed it before taking a breath, "You wouldn't."

Tim shrugged his shoulders, "It's your call, Sam."

The younger man watched in shocked silence as the older hunter turned his back and walked toward the door.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, stepping away from the wall, confused.

"Giving you some time to think things over," Tim looked over his shoulder, "I'm sure you'll see things our way… eventually. See you in three days."

Sam stopped short, stunned.

"What? No! Let me out of here! You can't do this!" Sam cried out and stumbled forward, not fast enough because the door was already closed and locked by the time he slammed his fists against the cold metal.

_SPN_

Dean couldn't help but jump a little as Castiel appeared in the back seat of the Impala. Regaining his composure quickly, the hunter peered at his friend in the rearview mirror.

The angel was practically boring a hole into the back of the front passenger's seat with his blue eyes.

"Where is your brother?" Cas asked in his customary monotone.

"Not here," Dean shrugged but his grip tightened ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

"That is obvious, Dean," the angel admonished, "But if Sam is not with you then where is he?"

Again Dean lifted one shoulder noncommittally, "South of the border by now, I guess."

"You do not actually know where your brother is," Cas said as the realization dawned on him.

Dean smiled, "Tell the man what he's won."

"I did not know this was some sort of a game, Dean," Cas commented.

Dean shook his head, "I'm not playing around. Sam wanted out. He didn't want to man-up and take responsibility for his mistakes so he left."

"Why didn't you try and stop him?" Cas asked and Dean narrowed his eyes.

The angel had been under the impression that the brothers were very close, even if they argued sometimes but maybe he had been wrong.

"Maybe I didn't want to stop him," Dean growled.

Cas had nothing to add to that and so remained silent. If Dean thought it was a good thing that Sam wasn't with him than perhaps it was. Dean, of course, knew Sam better than Castiel did anyway.

"How's the search for God coming along?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

"My father still remains elusive," the angel answered, "But I am confident that He will appear once He is made aware of the impending Apocalypse."

Dean grunted in reply. He didn't know why the angel was so hell-bent on finding God. The young man was sure that if the Lord did exist, He'd already turned his back on the Earth because Dean had never had any of his prayers answered.

"Why did you call me, Dean?" the angel interrupted the young man's thought, returning him to the very purpose of his friend's visit.

"Did you know," Dean began, biting the words out as though they tasted bitter on his tongue, "About Sam being Lucifer's vessel?"

Castiel actually raised his eyebrows in shock, "Your brother is Lucifer's true vessel?"

Dean merely nodded, not willing to say those words again.

"Did you know about this? Did you know about Michael too?"

This time the angel shook his head, "No, Dean. I was unaware of this information."

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously, trying to decide if the angel was lying to him.

"How do you know that Sam is meant to be Lucifer's vessel?"

It was Dean's turn to look surprised, "Sam told me. A few nights ago. Had some fucked-up dream and ol' Lucy himself told Sam the big news."

Dean didn't like the concerned expression that dawned on the angel's face.

"Has Michael communicated with you? Have you dreamt about him?"

Dean frowned, "What? No, of course not! I guess those Enochian symbols of yours really did the trick."

Castiel nodded but didn't look at all relieved by Dean's words.

"Are you sure you do not know where Sam is?"

Dean sighed in exasperation, "Cas, my brother can take care of himself, okay? Let somebody else worry about him. You just concentrate on finding God or whatever."

"Dean," the angel said in a low voice, "This is serious. If Lucifer was able to find Sam this quickly and infiltrate his dreams it will not take him long to pinpoint your brother's location in the waking world. If Lucifer finds Sam he will surely try to force your brother to say yes."

Dean stopped listening to his friend. So what if Sam agreed to be Lucifer's meat-suit? Dean wasn't going to jump on the angel condom band-wagon and say yes to Michael.

"Dean," Castiel snapped, "Sam didn't leave because he didn't want to hunt anymore, did he?"

"Goodbye Cas," Dean growled and almost smiled when the angel disappeared from the backseat.

The hunter turned on the radio to cut the sudden silence in the car, searched for a good classic rock station and hummed happily when Ozzy Osbourne's 'Crazy Train' came blaring from the speakers.

_SPN_

Sam stared at the heavy metal door as if trying to bore a hole through it. He sat on the old, lumpy mattress with his legs stretched out in front of him and his back against the brick wall. The inside of Sam's mouth felt like it was coated in sandpaper and his grimaced in pain whenever he swallowed.

Night had fallen long ago but Sam fought off sleep. He wanted to be ready for when Tim reappeared. The hunter's friends had already gotten the better of him in Fort Worth and that was unacceptable.

Sam yawned loudly, trying to ignore the hunger gnawing away at his stomach. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes and sighed. Maybe Tim wasn't going to come back. Maybe he had decided just to lock Sam up and leave him to starve to death. Sam cringed at the morbid thought and stood. He didn't trust the way his knees wobbled as they held his weight but he stepped forward- sheepishly- anyway.

Sam approached the door with measured footsteps and pressed his ear against the cold metal, trying to hear anything on the other side. Nothing. Not that Sam expected it to be any different. Sam turned away and tried not to think about what was going to happen to him. Tim and Reggie had made it very clear that they were not beyond hurting people- innocent people- when they'd threatened Lindsey at the bar in Garber. Sam didn't want to think about what the two hunters might do if he refused to help them.

Sam returned to the far side of the room and sat down heavily. He was exhausted. The handful of days without food or water had left Sam much weaker than he'd thought he'd be. He was running on fumes and pretty soon even they wouldn't be enough to keep him going.

Without giving it conscious thought, Sam lay down on the mattress and closed his eyes. In less than a minute the young man was in a deep sleep, not even stirring when the door opened on its squeaky hinges and a figure entered the room.

_SPN_

Bobby Singer wondered if both the Winchester boys had dropped off the face of the Earth. He had tried calling both Sam and Dean numerous times but to no avail. Gritting his teeth in frustration, the old hunter had to resist the temptation to throw his cell phone across the living room. All Bobby wanted was to know that the boys were all right. Hell, he'd be happy with a text message at this point, as long as they acknowledged his calls.

Bobby wasn't surprised not to hear from Dean- he was still pissed at the younger man since their last phone conversation- but he had thought better of Sam. Surely he would have contacted Bobby to let him know he'd arrived at his destination- wherever that was- safely.

The veteran hunter lamented the fact that he couldn't even call on Cas to do a reconnaissance on the Winchesters anymore because of the Enochian symbols on their ribs- if the angel wanted to know where Sam and Dean were he'd have to call them and ask for their whereabouts like everyone else.

A part of Bobby knew he really shouldn't worry; this part knew that the brothers had been in sticky situations before and both had come out of them okay but they'd had always been _together. _What scared the living daylights out of Bobby was the fact that the boys were both flying solo. Despite being each other's weakness, it was also true that Sam and Dean worked best when they were a team. Bobby had seen both Sam and Dean without the other and it was not a pretty sight. They just didn't function properly by themselves.

A part of Bobby wondered if this separation couldn't actually be for the best. At least this way, both boys got what they wanted. Dean could continue hunting without having to keep a constant eye on his brother and Sam could finally have a second chance at a normal life. The veteran hunter thought about the fight he'd had on the phone with the eldest Winchester: Dean did have a point; their enemies wouldn't be able to use them against each other this way… as difficult as that thought was to accept.

"Maybe I'm just so used to being their referee that I gotta realize I can't always be getting involved in their arguments," Bobby said to himself resignedly, "They ain't little boys anymore."

Bobby dialed Sam's number for the hundredth time and sighed when it went straight to voicemail.

"I just hope y'all know what you're doing," Bobby muttered and set his phone aside

_SPN_

Sam threw caution to the wind. He was just so damn thirsty. He grabbed the bottle of water and twisted off the cap- at least it hadn't been opened previously as the crack of tearing plastic filled the small room- and gulped down half the contents.

Having slaked his thirst, Sam eyed the bowl of what appeared to be oatmeal, warily.

Sam had slept a few hours- upon awaking he saw that morning's golden light lent a crisper brightness to that room- before reluctantly opening his eyes. He had been unpleasantly surprised to find the food and water in the room. Sam hadn't even heard the door being opened and that realization left him feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Sam's stomach clenched painfully and he knew he had to eat something soon.

Tentatively, Sam reached out a hand and wiped some of the porridge from the side of the bowl with his finger- no utensils had been provided- and stared questioningly at the breakfast cereal for a moment.

The oatmeal was cold and gluey- an unappetizing shade of grey- but otherwise seemed perfectly harmless.

Sam wolfed down half of the bowl's contents before pausing. If he ate any more he was sure to be sick. Sitting back on his haunches, Sam licked his fingers clean before wiping them on his jeans. Sam's stomach gurgled wetly and he quickly took another swig of water.

Sam stood up and suddenly the room began spinning around him. He closed his eyes but the dizzy feeling didn't go away. Stumbling blindly, Sam hit one of the walls and slid down, his legs buckling at the knees. Sam landed on his side and began to panic: he felt lightheaded and his eyes felt weighted down. He struggled to stay awake but his willpower was no use against whatever drug swam through his veins. Only too late did Sam realize that the oatmeal had been spiked with some sort of sedative and he had been stupid enough to fall right into the trap. No longer able to fight against the toxin in his bloodstream, Sam's eyes shut of their own accord and he was pulled quickly into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to fixusi, mb64, anna3311234, mandancie, AshleyMarie84, cold kagome, L.A.H.H, SamDeanLover28, Katlover98, BranchSuper, doyleshuny, babyreaper, MysteryMadchen, Souless666 and Guest for reviewing!**

**2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed and favourited this story so far!**

**3. Please leave a review! Sam's gotten himself into some deep trouble this time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Sam's head throbbed with pain and his mouth was as dry as cotton.

He carefully lifted his eyelids and stared confusedly at the bright lamp shining down in his face.

Where was he? What had happened to him? Where was Dean?

Sam's head lolled to the side at the sound of footsteps approaching.

Was it Dean? Sam tried to get up and found that he couldn't. Glancing down Sam saw that he had thick leather straps around his wrists, securing his arms to that of the chair he sat in.

Fear seeped into Sam's mind and he tugged at the restraints.

The owner of the footsteps walked into the circle of light around Sam and the young man stared into Tim's grinning face.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" the older hunter asked mockingly.

Sam felt bile rise in his throat as he remembered exactly why he had woken up feeling as though he was hung-over and why Tim was here instead of Dean.

"Let me go! You can't do this!" Sam snarled, squinting his eyes in the bright light and ignoring the pain in his head.

The blond hunter just laughed.

"I can do whatever I want," Tim said confidently.

"I am not helping you," Sam told the hunter.

Tim smirked, "I think you will, Sam."

The young man struggled against the restraints again, the leather straps so tight they were surely cutting off the blood flow into his hands.

"Since I'd like to think I'm a fair guy," Tim said, "I'll give you one more chance to agree to man-up and take responsibility for your mistakes."

"You can just forget about it," Sam exclaimed, "I am not going to help you!"

The older hunter shook his head, "Now see, that's too bad because I was really hoping we wouldn't have to hurt you, Sam."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. He gazed uncertainly at Tim but the man appeared completely serious. He didn't even crack a smile.

A chorus of footfalls announced the presence of others in the room and a trio of people approached Sam.

"You already know Reggie," Tim said as the dark-skinned hunter stepped into the light, "But I don't think you've been properly introduced to my other two friends."

Sam startled slightly when he saw the small girl he'd rescued from the alleyway a few nights before and the gorilla who had been harassing her.

"This is Alma and Lloyd," Tim introduced.

Sam said nothing.

"On a scale of one to ten," the female hunter asked, "How would you rate my performance? I thought it was very convincing."

The large hunter, built like a linebacker, chuckled and slipped an arm around Alma's waist.

"Alright," Tim announced; his tone calm and relaxed, "Let's see if we can't help Sam here change his mind."

_SPN_

Dean practically groaned in pleasure as he wolfed down his Lumberjack Breakfast. Two kinds of meat- bacon and sausage- four eggs, home fries, grits, two pieces of toast and a serving of fresh fruit- which the hunter chose to ignore- and a cup of coffee.

Dean was in heaven. If Sam was here he'd tell Dean how unhealthy all that greasy food was and pick moodily at his pancakes.

For once Dean was glad that he didn't have Sam to act as unofficial member of the 'Food Police'.

"Can I top your coffee up for you?" the waitress, Daisy, asked in a cute Southern accent.

"Yeth Pweeth," Dean said through a mouthful of food and the young woman smiled at him coyly.

Dean smiled smugly to himself as he ate. Maybe he'd get Daisy's number before he left the diner.

He took a large gulp of hot coffee and finished his food. He leaned back contentedly once he had finished mopping up the runny egg yolk with his bread crusts and sighed.

The sun was shining, his belly was full and he had a date with a pretty girl for later that evening. Nothing could be better.

_SPN_

Sam pressed his back against the chair as Reggie approached him. He didn't know exactly how much time had passed; once Tim had given his ultimatum, he and the other hunters had disappeared, leaving Sam alone. There was a small window high up in the wall across the room from Sam and the young man could see by the meager light shining through the dust-encrusted glass that only a few hours had passed.

"Let me go!" Sam demanded as Reggie came closer, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Not until you say the magic word," the hunter told him sternly, like a parent admonishing a stubborn child.

"Fuck you!" Sam snarled.

The older hunter tsked, "Try again."

Reggie reached out and grabbed Sam's left hand. He easily pried the young man's fist open and brought a regular carpenter's hammer out from behind his back.

Splaying Sam's hand flat, Reggie asked again, "Are you going to help us?"

"No, don't-" Sam pleaded before the older man brought the blunt end of the hammer down on his hand.

Sam's cry of pain echoed throughout the room. Reggie chuckled and raised the hammer again.

"Ready?" he asked, smiling, "Or are you going to help us?"

Sam shook his head, tears leaking from his eyes. He clenched his teeth to keep from making a sound. Every time Reggie asked him the same question Sam refused to answer. The hunter would sigh as though disappointed and continue with his grim task, enjoying himself far too much.

_SPN_

Dean leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms out in front of himself, fingers lacing together. He grabbed the television remote and surfed through the channels, trying to find something good to watch. He found an old action move and settled in for the last half-hour of it.

The vibrations of his cell phone drew Dean's attention away from the television screen and he checked the Caller ID. It wasn't Bobby or Sam. Good.

"Hey, Liz! How are you?" he exclaimed happily, smiling at the thought of the lanky red-head he had met the day before at a local bar.

Turning off the TV set, Dean grabbed his jacket and car keys, eager for the drive to Liz's apartment. She said she was feeling lonely and wanted him to come by and keep her company.

Dean grinned and turned on the radio, tapping his hands on the steering wheel as the Scorpion's 'Rhythm of Love' came on.

_SPN_

Sam opened his eyes slowly. The sound of footsteps came closer and closer.

The window on the other end of the room was dark; it was night.

Sam's left hand throbbed painfully with every beat of his heart. The appendage was badly bruised and blood from a gash across the knuckles wept freely. Sam was almost certain that at least three of his fingers were broken.

The young man glanced up when Tim appeared holding an instrument that looked somewhat like a barbeque lighter with two metal prongs on the end instead of a nozzle.

"Do you know what this is, Sam?" the hunter asked, holding the instrument up for him to see.

The young man shook his head. The pain in his hand made it hard to concentrate.

"This is an electric cattle prod," the hunter explained and Sam couldn't help but whimper.

"So you know what it does," Tim said with a smile, "Before I use it, is there something you'd like to say?"

Sam's eyes grew wide with fear but he managed to sneer, "You can forget it."

"I'm sorry, that's not the answer I was looking for," Tim said sadly and turned on the prod.

_SPN_

Dean swore in frustration as another large brow cow plodded in front of him, blocking his path. He hit the docile animal's side with the flat of his hand but the cow barely noticed.

Why did that grave have to be in the middle of a paddock? Dean wondered as he clambered over the cow's broad back and dropped down on the other side… right onto a pile of steaming dung.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore aloud and tried to clean the bottom of his boots off in the grass.

I should never have taken on this case, Dean told himself. If there was one thing Dean hated more than camping, it was farms.

The cattle moved out of the way just enough to give the hunter a clear path towards where grave should be. Dean hurried past the lowing cows and skidded to the middle of the pasture. Pulling the aged map from his jacket pocket, Dean double-checked the location of the grave; he should be standing right on top of it.

Folding the paper back up, Dean dug the end of the spade he had brought along into the ground.

_W_

Dean knew something was going to happen. No hunter could go poking around a restless spirit's grave and not meet some kind of trouble. He had just barely started digging when the enraged farmhand's ghost appeared beside him and flung him away from the grave.

Dean landed heavily on his back, momentarily stunned. The farmhand appeared above him, an angry expression etched on his features.

Dean forced himself into a sitting position. The cattle were on the far side of the field, stomping their hooves and tossing their heads nervously.

The eldest Winchester ran back to the grave and continued digging as fast as he could. He needed to get rid of this asshole before he was trampled to death.

In record time Dean unearth the remains of the ghost and poured salt over the skeleton. The farmhand's ghost appeared again and flung the hunter towards the herd of cattle.

The animals bellowed in fear and began running, the ground shaking beneath their hooves.

"Shit!" Dean swore and stood up as quickly as possible, fumbling his lighter out of his jacket pocket even as he ran from the approaching herd.

Sprinting past the open grave, Dean dropped the lighter into the hole, not even bothering to look back to see if the skeleton had caught fire. He ran until he reached the wooden fence- vaulted over it- and dropped down on the other side, watching as the cattle ran past the flaming remains, the orange light reflected in their gentle brown eyes.

Dean laid back against the grass and let out a breathy chuckle.

He didn't need Sam. He could hunt all by himself. He had done it and he could do it again.

_SPN_

Sam's head hit the back of the chair as Reggie hit him a second time. His lip spilt and blood leaked down his chin. With his arms strapped down, Sam had no way of defending himself against the attack and could only wait for the short reprieve when the hunter paused in his beating to ask his question.

"C'mon Sam," Reggie said, rubbing his knuckles, "How much longer do you think you can keep this up?"

"I am not helping you," Sam said through his swollen mouth.

"We've been at this for almost three days," Reggie continued, "People are dying, innocent people, and you won't help us save them? You're the worst kind of monster out there."

Anger flared up inside Sam and he snapped, "I am not a monster!"

The older hunter looked momentarily surprised at the outburst before chortling, "Did I hit a nerve?"

Sam didn't reply. He knew by reacting the way he had, he may have just given Reggie and company more fuel to add to the fire.

The dark hunter grinned, "You don't think you're a monster? You started the Apocalypse! You're the worst kind of monster! You sold your own kind!"

"I… didn't mean to," Sam argued feebly.

Reggie snorted, "And you think that changes anything?"

The hunter punched Sam in the face again.

"If I'm a monster than why not kill me?" Sam asked, gritting his teeth in pain. He wasn't completely certain that Lucifer had spoken the truth when he claimed that he would resurrect Sam if he were to die but if he was bluffing and these hunters killed him, Sam didn't think it would be a great loss.

Reggie smiled patronizingly and grabbed Sam's injured left hand, twisting it cruelly.

"You may be a monster, but even monsters have their uses."

_SPN_

"Hey! Give me back my money!" the broad-shouldered biker growled threateningly.

Dean shrugged and turned away, "Sorry pal, if you want to keep your cash, maybe you shouldn't play like a girl."

The biker swung the pool cue in his hand at the younger man's head but Dean easily dodged the lumbering man. Ducking under the cue, Dean sprang up and decked the biker on the chin, hoping the knock him flat on his ass.

Instead of putting the biker out of commission, Dean only pissed him off. The burly man swung the cue again, catching Dean on the side of the head and sending him staggering into the pool table.

Throwing the cue on the floor, the biker stomped over to where Dean was trying to regain his composure and lands a punch on the hunter's mouth with one meaty fist.

"Gimme back my money!" The biker grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and dragged him away from the pool table.

Dean, blood dripping down his chin, eyes seemingly unfocused, rammed his fist into the biker's solar plexus.

The man released Dean and collapsed heavily to the floor, his face ashen and his eyes wide.

The hunter glanced up and the crowd that gathered in to watch the fight, stepped back. The owner of the tiny, roadside bar stared unbelieving at Dean, cell phone in his hand, ready to call the authorities.

"He called me a cheater," Dean said quietly and wiped the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his leather jacket.

The crowd parted for Dean, still staring warily. The music from the old jukebox in the corner sounded mournful without the additional noise of late-night revelers.

Dean left the bar quickly, not wanting to meet up with the cops if they were on their way.

Settling down in the Impala's driver seat, Dean opened his wallet and counted the money- eighty bucks- not a large amount but enough and certainly not worth getting into a fight over.

The radio turned on as soon as Dean started the engine, Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Saturday Night Special' blaring from the speakers and the hunter couldn't help but grin.

_SPN_

Sam was so thirsty.

His mouth felt like it was coated in sandpaper and his throat was sore.

Sam stared at the pitcher of water sitting on the floor in front of him, impossible to reach.

He closed his eyes for a moment- one nearly swollen shut from Reggie's beating- and tried to gather enough saliva into his mouth to make swallowing a little less painful.

Sam sighed and opened his eyes again; looking longingly at the clear glass pitcher, fill nearly to the brim with cold water. The overhead light shone on the condensation on the outside of the vessel, making the beads of moisture twinkle like jewels. Ice cubes melted lazily into the liquid and-

Stop thinking about it! Sam shouted at himself silently; that's only making it worse!

Look at something else, Sam thought and glanced down at his maimed left hand.

The bruises were fading but the gash had been re-opened and blood was oozing slowly from the wound. Sam tried to move his fingers only to have sharp pain shoot up his arm to his elbow.

Nausea boiled up in Sam's stomach and he hoped that he wasn't about to be sick. He didn't want to be sitting in his own puke for hours before Tim or Reggie finally came down to make sure he hadn't died on them. Sam's stomach gave a half-hearted whine but any hunger pang was eclipsed by thirst. He knew he wouldn't last much longer without water; he wondered if the hunters also knew that.

Sam closed his eyes.

Exhaustion took over Sam's overtaxed body and he slipped into unconsciousness, free from pain and worry, at least for a little while.

_W_

Sam looked up at Lloyd, the broad-shouldered hunter and his pretty partner, standing where the pitcher of water had been.

The man leaned forward.

"I'll bet you want water?" Lloyd asked mockingly, his face only inches away from Sam's.

"Yes," the younger man answered through dry, cracked lips.

"We'll get ya some," the big hunter chuckled and Alma quickly untied the restraints from around Sam's wrists.

Lloyd grabbed Sam's shirt and pulled him into a standing position. Once the young man was upright, Lloyd yanked Sam's left arm behind his back.

With Alma by his side, the bearish hunter marched Sam across the room. They stopped before a large metal washtub filled with water; a new addition.

Lloyd forced Sam down on his knees in front of the tub and the young man stared confusedly at his reflection in the water's surface before the hunter grabbed his hair with his free hand and shoved his head under the water.

Sam thrashed, unable to breathe, unable to pull himself up with Lloyd holding both his head and his left arm. Sam's right hand scratched at the side of the metal tub, shoved at it in a desperate attempt to push it away.

Alma watched patiently as the young man struggled in vain to escape. She smirked as Sam Winchester grew weaker, his fighting slowing until he stopped moving altogether. His right hand dropping limply to his side.

Lloyd heaved Sam up, water dripping down the unconscious young man's face from his sopping hair.

He dropped Sam onto the concrete floor on his back.

Alma stepped forward and placed two fingers on Sam's neck to feel for a pulse. Leaning over she tilted Sam's head back and began to perform CPR.

A minute passed before Sam was choking and coughing. Alma rolled Sam onto his side as he vomited, water and bile pouring out of his mouth.

Lloyd tugged Sam up from the floor before he had even fully recovered and dragged him back across the room. He shoved Sam into the chair and strapped his arms down.

Sam's head rested on his chest, his breathing slow and slightly wet.

_SPN_

Dean motioned to the bartender for another beer. He grinned as she set one down in front of him.

"Someone's in a good mood," she said and glanced down at the other patrons sitting at the bar.

"I know something that could make my mood even better," Dean suggested and smiled around the mouth of the beer bottle when the busty bartender winked at him.

The eldest Winchester's phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished the device out, holding back a groan when he saw who the caller was.

Wanting nothing more than to ignore the grizzled old hunter, Dean turned off his cell phone; knowing that Bobby would probably tear him a new one once they finally saw each other.

"Who was that? You're girlfriend?" the bartender asked and Dean shook his head.

"No way," the hunter said, "I'm a single man."

"Hmmm," the bartender answered and set yet another bottle of beer on the bar, "On the house."

_SPN_

"What are you doing?" Sam muttered as Tim approached him.

The hunter had a lighter in his hand; he kept flicking the flint on before closing the metal lid and extinguishing the flame.

"I'm surprised you've held out this long, Sam," Tim said, smiling, "I really am. I've heard that you Winchesters were as stubborn as mules but this… this is something else."

Sam wasn't even looking at Tim; his gaze was locked on the lighter in his hand, the orange flame.

"You still don't want to help us?" the hunter asked and Sam shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Alright then," Tim said and shrugged. He crouched down in front of Sam and pocketed the lighter for a moment.

Sam leaned forward to see what the man was doing. Tim tugged off one of his shoes and pulled off his sock. Sam frowned confusedly, "Don't… do that…"

The hunter ignored him and grabbed Sam's foot, holding his ankle tightly.

With his free hand, Tim drew the lighter from his pocket and flicked it on.

"No," Sam whimpered, "Please don't."

The hunter brought the flame close to Sam's foot. He could feel the heat on the bottom of his foot but no pain yet.

"I'll stop as soon as you agree to help us," Tim said and the small fire licked at Sam's foot.

_SPN_

Dean grimaced at the coroner's photo of the latest victim and quickly set the picture down.

"I just don't understand it," the coroner stated, bewildered, "It's like she spontaneously combusted."

Dean glanced at photo of the charred remains of Rachel Morrison, "You said that there were no other indications of a fire starting in the apartment, other than the area where Miss Morrison was standing?"

The coroner nodded, "The rest of her bedroom was as clean as a whistle. No ash or smoke-stains."

Maybe I should call Bobby for this one, Dean thought as he scribbled in his notepad.

The idea of working a case involving fire still made the eldest Winchester uneasy. It just dredged up too many bad memories.

"This is the third unexplained fire?" Dean asked.

"Yup, third one in three weeks," the coroner explained.

"And the other victims? They all died in their homes with no outwards signs of fire in the area," Dean continued.

_Ghost? _He wrote. _Maybe witch. Check for connections between vics._

"The rest of their houses were unharmed," the coroner confirmed, "No one called the fire department to report smoke or anything like that."

Dean nodded, gulped and looked up.

"Okay, so, these people all burnt up but _how _exactly," he asked, "Did they suddenly burst into flames or something?"

A grim expression on his face, the coroner shook his head. He flicked through the photographs of Rachel Morrison until he found the one he wanted, holding it up for Dean to see.

"The worst of the burns are on the victim's feet," he explained and Dean had to force himself to look at the picture.

"Those are… uh… some pretty serious looking burns," Dean managed to say and shuddered. He had seen wounds like that before… but he wasn't going to think about that now.

"Third and fourth degree," the coroner confirmed, "Right down to the bone in some places."

He set the photo down, noticing how pale Agent Osbourne had become.

"The fire started at the victims' feet and appeared to climb up the rest of their bodies," the coroner shook his head, "Their clothing must have been enough to fuel it."

Dean wondered why the victims' hadn't tried to put out the flames, since it seemed as though they had simply stood there while the fire consumed them.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Browns," Dean said and held out his hand, "You've been very helpful."

The coroner nodded and shook Dean's hand, still confused as to why the FBI was interested in the burning deaths of three completely unrelated people.

As Dean left the morgue, he decided that maybe he should call Bobby to help him out, at least with the research part of the hunt.

That was probably the only thing Dean missed about having his brother around; Sam actually liked shifting through stacks of old records and fiddling with microfilm and would happily research for hours.

Dean, on the other hand, avoided libraries like they were full of the plague, and now that he was on his own, had grudgingly resigned himself to the task of researching though he would gladly shirk that part of the job whenever possible.

Gathering up his courage to call the veteran hunter, Dean unlocked the driver's side door of the Impala and sat down in the driver's seat.

He closed his eyes for a moment- the charred body of Rachel Morrison flashing behind his closed lids- and quickly opened them again, cursing quietly.

"Hey, Bobby! How are you doing?" Dean asked as cheerfully as he could manage.

"What do you want?" the hunter ground out, sounding none too pleased about the younger man's unexpected call.

"No beating around the bush with you, is there?" Dean muttered, "Look, I need some help on a hunt."

"I thought you didn't need anyone?" Bobby answered sarcastically.

"I…uh… I do for this one," Dean stammered, "It's a bad one."

"You expect any of 'em to be a picnic?" the grizzled hunter asked mockingly.

Dean sighed. He should have realized that the old man would be pissed at him. At least he hadn't said anything about Sam yet.

"There's fire, Bobby," Dean explained in a quiet voice.

There was a long pause on the other end and the young man was sure Bobby had walked away from the phone.

"Where are you?" Bobby asked in a long-suffering tone and Dean couldn't help but smile slightly.

_SPN_

"Hey! Wake up!"

Sam gasped when Lloyd grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his head up. Barely conscious, the young man peered up at his tormentor with tired eyes.

Sam couldn't do it anymore. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again. That was for the best. Everyone would be safe if he wasn't around.

Sam whimpered when the hand gripping his hair tugged his head up even further.

"I think we're losing him," Alma commented for Lloyd's side, "Better get Tim and Reggie."

The bearish hunter glanced at the small woman as though he was worried about leaving her alone with Sam.

"Go," Alma said and waved a hand at her partner, "I can take care of myself."

Grunting, Lloyd released Sam and stomped towards the other end of the room, where the door was.

"Why won't you help us?" Alma asked.

"I… didn't k-know," Sam whispered; his voice barely audible. The woman stepped closer to him, unable to hear him.

"If that's what you have to say to make yourself feel better," Alma said condescendingly.

Sam sucked in a shuddering breath. He hadn't known what killing Lilith would do. He hadn't known that he would release Lucifer.

Dean had tried to stop him; had known something was wrong and Sam had ignored him. Sam had believed Ruby instead of his own brother.

It _was _his fault. It didn't matter that he had been ignorant of the consequences of his actions; he had trusted a demon and betrayed his brother.

Sam didn't realize there were tears running down his face until Alma spoke.

"I don't think crying's going to sway them."

"Just help us," Alma said earnestly, "You know as well as I do that they're not going to stop this."

Sam closed his eyes, refusing to listen to the woman. She was no innocent. She had been right alongside Lloyd while he'd nearly drowned him.

The door on the other side of the room opened and the bearish hunter reappeared, followed by Tim and Reggie.

Sam whimpered and pressed his back against the chair.

Tim touched Sam's right wrist, checking his pulse.

"Give him some water and food," he told Lloyd and walked out, Reggie following.

Alma smiled at Sam and patted his knee, "You must really be something for Tim and Reggie to be so intent on keeping you alive."

She turned away, linked arms with Lloyd and the two of them walked out of the room as well, leaving Sam alone.

The young man bowed his head, trying to hold back the sobs of hopelessness fighting to escape.

_W_

Sam stared suspiciously at the bowl of oatmeal Alma had in her hands.

"It's just porridge," she sighed in exasperation, "Trust me."

Sam trusted the woman as far as he could throw her.

"W-water," Sam whispered, his throat aching.

Alma shook her head, "Food first. Don't want you filling up on water."

Lloyd was leaning against the wall directly across from Sam, arms crossed over his brawny chest, ready if Sam tried anything.

Alma set the bowl of cereal aside and untied the straps from around Sam's wrists, not even flinching at the raw wounds the restraints had caused.

The female hunter set the bowl in Sam's lap and took a step back.

For a moment Sam just stared at the oatmeal as though trying to detect any poison or drug.

"C'mon! We don't have all goddamn day to wait around for you!" Lloyd grumbled.

Carefully, slowly, as if the bowl was a venomous snake poised to strike at any moment, Sam reached towards it with his uninjured right hand.

The oatmeal was just as cold and gluey as before. Sam didn't think he'd be able to swallow it.

Sam managed a few mouthfuls before his stomach rebelled and he threw up, leaning forward to avoid his lap.

Sitting back, Sam saw that Alma was at the side of the chair. She placed the palm of her hand against his brow in a motherly fashion.

"You're not sick," she told him, "You just can't handle this right now."

"P-please… water," Sam whispered, lifting his right hand towards her. Lloyd pushed himself away from the wall but didn't move any closer.

Alma grabbed Sam's wrist and set it down on the arm of the chair, strapping it down expertly.

"Maybe later," she said, "When you're not going to puke everywhere."

Sam swallowed and dry heaved at the acrid taste of stomach acid in the back of his throat.

He said nothing as Alma gathered up the bowl of porridge and the bottle of water, avoiding the puddle of vomit.

Sam closed his eyes as he listened the hunters' footsteps recede.

_W_

"You're a monster! A freak!" Dean snarled lashing out at Sam with his fists.

The younger Winchester couldn't move, couldn't defend himself and Dean hit him. Blows struck Sam on the face, the chest with crippling pain.

"If I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you!" Dean spat in Sam's face.

"It was an accident!" Sam cried, "I didn't know that was going to happen! Dean, please you have to believe me! I'm not evil! I swear I'm not!"

"You started the Apocalypse, Sam," Dean growled, his voice low and dangerous, "You didn't listen to me and because of that you damned every man, woman and child."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I was just trying to stop Lilith!" Sam's words fell on deaf ears.

"And now you refuse to clean up the mess you made!" Dean snarled, "Are you so arrogant that you refuse to at least try and repair the damage you've done?"

"Dean, what do you want me to do?" Sam asked, tears welling up in his eyes. He had never seen his brother so angry before; it was scaring him.

"Atone for what you've done!" Dean shouted, "God knows it's the least you can do."

The eldest Winchester turned away from his beaten and bleeding brother.

"No Dean! Don't leave me! I'm sorry! Please," Sam cried, his tears overflowing and streaming down his face.

"You made the mess Sam," Dean paused in the doorway of the motel room, "You clean it up."

Sam cringed when the door slammed shut and he finally collapsed to the floor, unable to stand any longer…

…Sam startled awake, his head throbbing with pain.

Squinting, Sam looked up at the window and saw that hardly any time had passed since he'd fallen asleep.

The door at the other end of the room opened and Alma entered carrying a yellow plastic bucket full of soapy water.

She didn't look at Sam as she approached; her gaze on the semi-dried puddle of puke on the concrete floor.

The hunter crouched down, put her hand in the bucket of water, took out a rag and wrung it before she began mopping up the mess.

Sam watched Alma silently. She scrubbed away furiously at the puke, clearly not pleased to be the one to have to clean it up.

Several minutes later Alma straightened and smiled, "There, all done."

A sliver of unease slipped down Sam's spine at the sight of that smile- something was off about it- but was unable to keep quiet.

"W-water… pl-please," he croaked.

"Oh right!" Alma exclaimed, "I did promise you water, didn't I?"

Sam nodded once, his expression hopeful.

He expected Alma to leave and retrieve a bottle from wherever they were kept but instead she lifted the yellow bucket.

"Here," she said, her smile never fading, "Drink."

Sam's eyes widened and he stared unbelieving at her.

"It won't hurt you, Sam," Alma insisted and moved the pail closer to his face until it filled his line of sight.

The water was grey and opaque. The rag shifted as the water sloshed, twisted like some sort of dead animal. Dirty soap bubbles floated on the surface.

"I c-can't," Sam said, cringing in disgust.

Alma did not move.

"You wanted water so I'm offering it to you," she said, "If you don't drink this, you won't get any."

Just drink it, Sam thought; it can't really be that bad.

Sam licked his dry, chapped lips, hating himself for even entertaining the idea but realizing he had no other choice.

Closing his eyes, Sam leaned forward and gulped down a large swallow of water from the bucket.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Alma lowered the bucket and smiled smugly at Sam.

The young man glanced down, feeling as though he had just done something disgusting.

The water left a bitter, alkali taste in Sam's mouth and he felt even thirstier than before.

_W_

Sam looked up from the crossword puzzle he was completing when Lindsey spoke.

"Why didn't you help them?" she asked, her blue eyes piercing.

Sam set his pen down and raked a hand through his hair, "I couldn't help their friend… there was nothing I could do by the time-"

"You're never out of the game," Lindsey interrupted, "You never are. Others have tried. Your mother tried but her past caught up with her, didn't it?"

"How do you know about that?" Sam asked but the blonde didn't answer.

"Because you didn't want to help, I almost got killed," She moved around the bar and stepped up to where Sam was seated at one of the round tables in the middle of the room.

"How many more innocent people are going to get hurt, are going to _die_, because you don't want to hunt anymore?"

"You don't understand," Sam argued, standing, "I'm dangerous…"

"To demons!" Lindsey exclaimed, "You could kill all those sons of bitches! Kill them! Not just send them back to the Pit! No other hunter has ever been able to do that and you're just going to waste that kind of power!"

Sam turned away from the young woman, intent on leaving but startled when he realized that the front door of the pub had disappeared. He was trapped.

"What do you have to lose?" Sam jumped at Lindsey's hand on his arm, "Dean doesn't care about you. He drove you away. You started the Apocalypse. Everyone's going to go down in flames so why not take down some of the enemy while you're at it?"

Sam pulled his arm away from Lindsey, "I can't do that to Dean again."

The blonde sighed dramatically, "But he's not here, Sam. He's gone. He kicked you out on your ass. How's he going to know?"

Sam shook his head, "No. I am not making that mistake again."

Lindsey rolled her eyes, "Fine. Stay here then. Let Tim and Reggie and their crazy buddies kill you. That'll certainly make up for everything you've done."

Sam opened his mouth to speak but the words died on his tongue. Lindsey was gone…

_W_

"Are you still alive?" Tim asked Sam, the younger man's eyes closed.

"Hit him," Reggie suggested. The blond hunter nodded and punched Sam in the chest.

Sam gasped, his eyes flying open and widening with fear at the sight of the two men standing before him.

The youngest Winchester immediately shook his head.

"I'm sorry it's come to this," Tim said, not smiling as he usually was, "I was hoping that it would be easier to convince you to help."

What were they going to do to him now? Were they going to kill him?

"But maybe this will change your mind," Reggie finished and the door across the room opened.

Lloyd stepped inside carrying something in his arms. As the large hunter moved closer Sam was shocked to see that the man was holding onto a child, a little girl no more than seven or eight years old.

Lloyd had one arm wrapped around the girl's middle, the other over her throat. She was clearly terrified, her light brown eyes wide with fear and her face blotchy and tearstained.

"So Sam," Tim said, "Here's the choices: Agree to help us or Lloyd will break the girl's neck."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam snapped, anger seething through him. Attacking Lindsey was bad enough but abducting a child and threatening to kill her? Sam was definitely not the monster in this situation.

"You wouldn't hurt her," Sam growled, his right hand clenching into a fist.

"Really? Lloyd?" Tim looked over at the larger hunter and the man squeezed the girl, the child squeaking in fear and pain.

"This shouldn't be a difficult decision," Reggie said, "Let's speed things up. I'm going to count down from ten and if you haven't agreed, the girl dies."

"Will you help us?" Tim asked.

"Ten," Reggie counted.

"No, are you sure?" Tim glanced over at the girl.

"Nine."

"Cute little thing," Tim said, "She was playing in the park, her mother wasn't looking… it was so easy to just grab her."

"Eight."

"Lucky it was us and not some pervert," Tim continued, "Thought that won't matter much when her neck's snapped."

"Seven."

"You're really going to sit there? You care more about yourself than the life of an innocent child?"

"Six."

"Her blood will be on your hands, Sam. Do you want to be responsible for that?"

"Five."

"When we kill her, we're not giving up. We're never going to let you go."

"Four."

"I know… decisions, decisions…"

"Three."

"Look at her Sam; I want you to look into her eyes while Lloyd snaps her like a twig."

"Two."

"Daddy would be so ashamed of you. I thought he always put hunting over everything, even you and Dean."

"One-"

"No! Please, don't kill her, please!" Sam cried out, desperate to save the girl.

Finally Tim smiled, "I knew we just had to push you far enough."

Lloyd didn't let go of the child- she was still clearly terrified- but at least she wasn't in danger.

"Let her go," Sam begged, "Give her back to her parents and I'll help you."

Lloyd walked out of the room, carrying the child securely.

Sam slumped in the chair. He felt awful.

"Are you going to untie me?" he asked.

Reggie shook his head, "Not just yet."

The two hunters, clearly in a triumphant mood, left the room in a much more cheerful fashion than they had possessed upon entering.

Sam swallowed thickly and closed his eyes.

What had he done?

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to BranchSuper, Miuda22, anna3311234, reannablue, angeleyenc, SPN Mum, mandancie, MysteryMadchen, doyleshuny, sarah, SamDeanLover28, mb64, sammynanci, Katlover98, Souless666 and Guest for reviewing.**

**2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed and favourited.**

**3. Please review! Dean's still oblivious- don't worry, he'll come to his senses eventually- and Sam… well, let me know what you think. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Sam looked up tiredly when the door on the other side of the room opened to reveal Reggie and Lloyd.

The two hunters did not speak as they approached Sam. For a moment, the young man thought that they were going to torture him again despite his promise to help. Lloyd and Reggie barely looked at Sam as they untied the straps from his wrists, though.

Lloyd grabbed Sam and yanked him up; the young man wincing when he put his full weight on his burnt, blistered feet. Sam staggered and would have collapsed had not Reggie and Lloyd been holding his arms tightly.

The two hunters dragged the young man across the room, heedless of the pain he was in.

Reggie threw open the door and Sam saw a deserted corridor with cement floors and redbrick walls. Turning to the left, Sam was marched down the dusty hallway. The trio passed a half-dozen metal doors before coming to halt before one of them, at the far end of the hall.

Lloyd opened the door and Sam saw the Devil's Trap drawn onto the cement floor; they were back at the room Sam had woken up in when he'd first been abducted by the hunters.

Reggie and Lloyd pushed Sam into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Sam slowly reached out his uninjured right hand towards the wall to steady himself. The pain in his feet made Sam's eyes well up and drew a sob from his parched throat. The mattress on the other side of the room seemed to be a hundred miles away and Sam wasn't sure he could make it.

Carefully and slowly, Sam lowered himself onto his hands and knees, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. Holding his left hand against his chest, Sam inched his way across the floor.

Once he finally reached the old, lumpy mattress, Sam flopped down onto it with a sigh on relief. Curling up with his left hand held protectively against his chest and his legs tucked up, the young hunter closed his eyes.

_W_

Days passed.

At least Sam thought it was days.

He was too sick to pay much attention to the window high up in the wall above the mattress. All he cared about was sleep. Sleep allowed Sam to escape the pain for a little while. Sleep allowed him to forget where he was and what trouble he was in.

He rarely saw the hunters. Sam would wake up to find food- oatmeal- and bottled water in the room at intervals but he often was too deeply unconscious to hear their entrance into or exit from the room.

Sam wondered when Tim and Reggie would demand he fulfill his promise to help them. He knew that they wouldn't wait forever. Their lack of patience had been made very clear.

Sam felt horrible, allowing himself to be used like this but what choice did he have? He couldn't have let Lloyd kill an innocent child and something told him that no one would have batted an eyelash if he had.

Maybe there was a way he could escape the hunters. They couldn't keep him locked in this room indefinitely. Demons were going to come to them. As soon as the hunters let their guard down, Sam would make a break for it and find Dean and-

No… Dean didn't want him around anymore. Dean had told him to get lost. _Pick a hemisphere. _

Sam ran his uninjured hand through his hair in agitation. He supposed that when he did escape he could continue on with his original plan and head south of the border.

That wouldn't work either. Sam had nothing but the clothes on his back. He didn't even have any cash in his pockets.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down so that he could think straight.

Bobby's would have been Sam's next destination but the youngest Winchester wasn't sure what Dean had told the grizzled hunter. For all Sam knew, Bobby hated him now as much as his brother did.

Sam felt adrift. There was no one he could turn to. He certainly couldn't trust other hunters; Tim and Reggie had proven that. Even his own family- Dean and Bobby- had turned their backs on him.

"I'll just disappear," Sam told himself without much enthusiasm, "I've done it before and I can do it again. Start a whole new life somewhere far away where no one knows my name."

The prospect didn't seem as appealing as it had when Sam had first decided to drop out of hunting and become the enigmatic Keith living in Garber, Oklahoma.

The idea of calling to Castiel briefly crossed Sam's mind. But only briefly. Sam was certain the angel would ignore him, believing him to be the abomination that the others had always insisted he was. Besides, Cas was Dean's friend and mostly seemed to put up with Sam for his brother's sake. Even if Cas did try to answer his call, Sam had no idea where he was so that wouldn't help the angel at all to find him.

All Sam could do was wait and try and find a way to get himself out of this mess.

_W_

Sam was awoken when he felt someone dig the toe of their shoe into his side. Blinking tiredly, Sam opened his eyes and saw Alma standing over him with what appeared to be a bundle of clothes in her arms.

"You have to change," she told Sam, her nose wrinkled as though she smelt something unpleasant, "You're dirty."

Sam sat up slowly and the hunter dropped the clothes into his lap. Examining the garments- a flannel shirt and jeans- Sam realized that the clothes _were _his. Alma and Lloyd must have broken into his motel room either before or after knocking him out and grabbed his duffel so no one would find it when he didn't check out. Sam was mildly surprised to discover that Alma had also brought his shoes.

I'm going somewhere, Sam thought as he unfolded the red and beige flannel shirt. He noticed that Alma had not left the room; she was still standing before him, watching.

"Do you need help?" she asked and Sam shook his head.

Not from you.

Carefully, using his right hand, Sam slowly unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing- the material spotted with drops of dried blood, oatmeal, and puke- and shrugged out o it. He quickly grabbed the clean shirt and threw it on. His right hand was shaking by the time he'd finished with the buttons and Sam closed his eyes for a moment.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Alma asked again, "I used to be a nurse so I know how to dress people."

"I'm fine!" Sam snapped and stood up. He felt his face flush at the thought of taking his pants off while the hunter was watching. He had a feeling that Alma wasn't going to leave until he had changed his clothes though. Telling himself it was stupid to be embarrassed, Sam unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down around his ankles. Bending down to pull the pant legs away from his feet, a wave of dizziness washed over Sam and he staggered.

Alma reached out and grabbed his arms, steadying him.

"Sit down," she instructed and Sam did so, his stomach churning unpleasantly.

"You big baby," Alma muttered and she tugged Sam's jeans off, "I'm not going to bite."

The hunter took the clean pair of jeans in one hand, motioning for Sam to get up with the other.

"Lean against me," she commented, and Sam hesitantly steadied himself with his right hand against her narrow shoulder.

You could attack her now, he thought; hit her or shove her into the wall and run to the door.

Yeah, he could, but Sam was certain that Lloyd would meet him as soon as he stepped out of the room. Even if he wasn't, Sam had no idea which way led to the exit.

"There you go," Alma's voice startled Sam from his thoughts.

Glancing down, Sam was even more shocked to find that his jeans were on and buttoned. He lowered his hand from Alma's shoulder and sank back done onto the mattress.

"Now you look half-way presentable," she commented and smiled in that unsettling way.

Sam didn't reply. He had a feeling that Tim and Reggie were finally beginning to set the second part of their plan into motion.

Alma gathered Sam's soiled clothes and turned away from him. She started humming quietly as she walked to the door and left the room.

Sam stared at the closed door and wrapped his arms around his middle.

_W_

Tim and Reggie stared across the room at Sam and smiled. The blond-haired hunter held a water bottle filled with a dark red liquid- demon blood- and tossed the container towards Sam. The young man made no move to catch the bottle and it hit the mattress, bounced off onto the floor and rolled four feet away from him.

"Drink up, Sammy-boy," Tim smirked, "You've got a job to do."

Sam glared at the hunters. Reggie stepped forward and kicked the bottle back towards Sam. It bumped against Sam's feet and the younger hunter picked it up carefully with his right hand.

The blood was thick and the outside of the bottle was beaded with condensation. It wasn't fresh then. For all Sam knew, Tim and Reggie had it when they'd attacked him back in Garber, hoping that he'd agree to help them when they'd threatened Lindsey.

Carefully, Sam opened the bottle. He simultaneously craved the blood and despised it. His heart rate sped up in anticipation even as his skin crawled.

"C'mon Winchester," Reggie egged him on, "Bottoms up."

Sam stared at the tempting liquid. This was the reason he was in this trouble in the first place. He had drunk demon blood in order to become strong enough to take down Lilith. The first demon had been the final seal. Killing Lilith had released Lucifer from Hell. If Sam had listened to his brother, if Sam had trusted Dean instead of Ruby, they could have found another way to defeat Lilith and perhaps the world wouldn't be ending.

Where had the blood come from? Sam wondered, something he rarely stopped to think about before because he couldn't bear the knowledge that he was hurting people. Sam closed his eyes and bowed his head. He had a lot of blood on his hands. He had allowed so many innocent people to die. Dean would never have allowed that to happen. Dean would have thought about everyone _before _himself.

No wonder Dean doesn't want to be around me, Sam told himself; everyone I meet dies.

"Hurry up!" Reggie snapped, no longer in a patient mood and took a menacing step toward Sam.

The younger man lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, not wanting to incite the hunter's anger. The blood was lukewarm. Its coppery taste coated Sam's tongue and the liquid slid down his throat like oil.

Although Sam cringed mentally at the act, he felt a thrill to be drinking blood again. It made him feel powerful, invincible; despite knowing that what it was really doing was making him weak. He was weak, to be allowing Tim and Reggie to use him like this.

Sam lowered the empty bottle and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

The two hunters came forward and heaved Sam to his feet, gripping his arms tightly enough to leave bruises. The young man didn't struggle or speak. Reggie pushed the door open and he and Tim manhandled Sam into the hallway.

They marched the young man down the corridor- Sam paying special attention to the direction they were going- as the trio headed farther and farther away from the room. Tim shoved open a metal door with a broken sign reading 'EXIT' above it and stepped out into the back parking lot of the warehouse. Sam squinted at the bright sunlight as he took in the deserted lot, the old grey asphalt cracked, the chain-link fence surrounding it rusted, before he was turned towards a white van that only had windows in the front cab, a feature which would warrant it a 'pedophile van' if Dean had been there.

Tim opened the back doors of the van and shoved Sam inside. Reggie jumped into the back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Before Sam could protest, the dark-skinned hunter shoved him so that Sam landed heavily on his backside and yanked both his arms behind his back, cuffing his wrists tightly.

Sam guessed they didn't want to risk him opening the back doors and jumping out while they drove. Reggie hopped down onto the pavement and closed the double doors; Sam heard a key in the lock, his theory seemingly correct. Sam used his feet to push himself into a corner, wedging himself into position so he wouldn't be thrown around as the vehicle moved.

_W_

Tim and Reggie didn't speak as they drove, nor did they turn on the radio. Sam had no idea where he was or where he was going. Since there were no windows, Sam couldn't see any landmarks or street signs. Instead, he concentrated on the turns- right and left- that were made, counting in his head to keep track of the time.

When they finally stopped at their destination, they had only been driving for an hour and a half. The back door opened and Tim dragged Sam out. Glancing around as his cramped muscles stretched, Sam was surprised to see that they were surrounded by well-kept houses with neatly-trimmed lawns.

Reggie unlocked the handcuffs but both he and Tim held onto Sam's arms as they walked nonchalantly up the walkway to a rose-coloured house with white trim and lace curtains in the front windows. Sam glanced down at the flowerbeds on either side of the front door, pink and cream hydrangea plants blooming in the late-afternoon sunlight. Sam heard a dog barking in a backyard a few houses down, a sprinkler hissed and whirred on the neighbour's lawn, but there was no one out. The street was oddly deserted for the time of day.

The hunters didn't need to pick the lock on the front door; it swung open when Reggie pushed a hand to it, as though whomever lived inside the house was expecting them.

The first thing Sam noticed when they stepped inside- besides the rotten meat stench- was the photographs along the foyer walls. Family portraits and school pictures smiled down at the trio. Tim and Reggie did not release Sam but continued creeping deeper into the house, ushering him along with them.

As they left the front hall and entered the living room- with a floral patterned sofa, a dark green leather Laz-E Boy recliner and shelves of knick-knacks- the putrid smell became nearly overpowering and now Sam could hear the buzzing of flies.

Something or someone was definitely dead here.

Finally, Tim and Reggie let go of Sam; the blond hunter investigating the source of the offensive odour while the dark-skinned one stalked into the kitchen. Sam didn't move. There was a demon in the house; he could sense it.

Sam's gaze was drawn to the Hummel figurines on the shelves on every wall in the living room. All the decorations featured children- little boys huddled underneath patchy umbrellas, little girls with bouquets of bright yellow flowers- and they seemed to follow the young man with their black-paint eyes.

Looking away from the creepy things, Sam jumped when Tim swore loudly and backed away from the couch. Sam's feet moved of their own accord and he was drawn to the sofa. Tim didn't stop Sam as he leaned against the cushions and glanced over the back.

Between the back of the couch and the wall was the crumpled form of an elderly man. He was clearly dead. Flies made a grisly halo around his head, maggots wriggled inside his eye sockets, making the lids twitch in a parody of REM sleep. A line of dried blood trailed from one corner of the dead man's mouth to the grey fluffy hair at his temple. His neck was bent at an almost ninety degree angle, the side of his head resting on the shoulder of his blue pyjamas.

Sam's head snapped up and Tim drew his pistol as Reggie was flung into the room to smash into the wall, a shelf of Hummel figures crashing down on top of his head.

A dry female voice chuckled and Sam watched as an old woman walked into the room. Her hair was fluffy and white, her face deeply lined. She wore a pink sweatshirt featuring a picture of a basket of kittens, purple sweat pants and yellow slippers. Her eyes were pitch black.

"Sam Winchester," she greeted, not even glancing at Tim or Reggie, "How kind of you to visit an old lady."

"Kill it!" Tim shouted, pointing his gun at the woman's chest.

"And you've brought friends!" the demon clapped her hands together as though Sam was a dutiful grandson dropping in on his Granny unexpectedly.

"Don't just stand there," Tim growled, "Kill it!"

Sam raised his right hand, fingers splayed and concentrated. The power surged inside him, bubbling up like a wellspring, the pressure building and needing release. Sam gritted his teeth and the demon laughed.

"What's wrong? Can't get it up?"

Eyes narrowed, Sam concentrated even harder. His head began to pound in time with his heartbeat and a trickle of blood leaked from his nose.

The demon gasped suddenly and curled inwards, coughing up thick black smoke as it was forced out of its host body. The old woman's blue-veined, liver-spotted clawed at her throat, trying to stop the eviction.

As the last trails of black smoke leaked from the woman's mouth and flew up to the ceiling- disappearing in a crackle of lightning- the body of the woman collapsed to the floor. Sam staggered and fell to his knees, wiping at the blood on his upper lip with his right hand. His head still throbbed but the pain was ebbing now. He felt weak and shaky, all the energy sapped from him.

Sam cried out when Tim hit him in the head with his gun, doubling over in pain.

"What the fuck was that?!" the blond-haired hunter demanded, grabbing Sam's hair and pulling his head up.

"I exorcised the demon," Sam told him through gritted teeth.

"Exorcised it! You were supposed to kill it!" Tim snarled and shook Sam's head for emphasis.

"I didn't want to hurt the woman," Sam explained.

"She's already dead!" the hunter shrieked.

Tim shoved Sam away and kicked him for good measure. He left Sam where he was and crossed the room to check on Reggie, putting two fingers to his friend's neck. The dark-skinned hunter groaned and pushed Tim's hand away.

"Get off me," he grunted and pushed himself away from the wall, eyes instantly traveling to the broken body of the old woman on the floor.

Reggie smiled toothily, greedily and Tim mirrored that expression.

Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood. Was theirs.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to ElizabethLostS, SPN Mum, mandancie, Miuda22, pinkbelle, anna3311234, shahenaaz08, sarah, angeleyenc, doyleshuny, Souless666, mb64, babyreaper, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, SamDeanLover28, Katlover98, MysteryMadchen, rohopretender and Guest for reviewing.**

**2. Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed, alerted.**

**3. Although it was not my intention from the beginning, the character of Annie Wilkes from Stephen King's **_**Misery, **_**has become the inspiration for Alma. **

**4. Reviews are love!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Castiel couldn't help but feel disappointment when he didn't see Sam with his brother. Dean was sitting against the headboard of his motel bed, a beer in his hand while he watched some old action movie on the TV.

"Have you heard from Sam?" the angel asked the hunter.

Dean shrugged, not even looking in his direction.

"Does that not trouble you?" Cas asked. All he could think about was Sam Winchester being Lucifer's true vessel and the fact that the young man was out there alone somewhere in his Father's wide world, all alone.

"Sam's fine," Dean commented and gulped down a mouthful of beer, "He's probably living large in Cancun or Tijuana not even thinking about me."

Castiel frowned. Dean's lack of concern for his brother was astonishing.

The eldest Winchester sighed and looked over at the angel.

"Look, if Sam was in trouble, he'd call me," Dean told Cas, his tone confident.

"Alright Dean," he consented in his gravelly tone.

The hunter nodded and turned back to the movie he was watching.

_SPN_

Sam curled up on the old, lumpy mattress and closed his eyes. He shivered uncontrollably, feeling as though the blood in his veins had been replaced with ice water. His eyes opened to slits when he heard the door open and Alma stepped inside. The female hunter clucked her tongue when she saw him and frowned, "Aw, are you not feeling good?"

Sam didn't answer. He closed his eyes once again and curled up even tighter as his insides seemed to turn to liquid.

"Poor baby," Alma's voice cooed, very close by and Sam opened his eyes slightly to see her crouched in front of him, hands on her knees.

"When I was a little girl," Alma began, smiling as she spoke, her tone nostalgic, "My mother would always make me chicken noodle soup with alphabet noodles if I was sick."

As Sam stared at the woman her face began to change. Her eyes turned completely white- like Lilith's- and black, foul smelling liquid oozed from her mouth, dripping and sizzling on the concrete floor.

The young man gasped and cringed away from the vision. He clenched his eyes shut, hoping that it would go away.

"I guess your Mom never made you anything special when you were sick?" Alma said mockingly; many hunters knew John Winchester's story, knew he had left his sons to look after one another while he went off in search of the monster that had killed his beloved wife.

I had Dean, Sam thought, his eyes still shut against the grotesque Alma had become. Dean looked after me whenever I was sick.

Sam wished that Dean was with him now.

After a while, the young man opened his eyes again and saw that he was alone. Alma must have left, or she had never been there in the first place.

_W_

Sam woke weak and shaky, similar to the feeling he often had after a bad bout of the flu.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed; it could have been only an hour or it could have been an entire day. He spied a bottle of water and a bowl of oatmeal in the middle of the room and made his way over to the pathetic fare, his muscles aching as he moved.

Settling down on the floor, Sam grabbed the bottle of water and gulped down its entire contents, his mouth and throat as dry as sandpaper. He glanced balefully at the bowl of porridge. He really didn't want to eat; his stomach still felt somewhat tender, but he was hungry.

Sam scooped a small amount of the cold cereal with his right hand and ate slowly. He gagged but forced himself to swallow, tears welling up in his eyes.

He couldn't do it. Wiping his hand on his jeans, Sam backed away, swallowing convulsively.

Sitting on the mattress miserably, Sam ran his hand through his hair and sucked in a stuttering breath.

He wondered when Tim and Reggie would come for him again. Sam didn't think he could go through that again. He had spent most of life as a puppet for supernatural forces that he couldn't bear to be one for humans. Was this what he had been made for? Was this his destiny?

Closing his eyes, Sam laid back on the lumpy mattress and told himself, _no, he was no one's to command. _He had only agreed to help the hunters because they had threatened the life of an innocent child. He didn't _have _to consent but he couldn't let Lloyd murder a little girl. He had been forced. Up until then, Sam had held out against them.

But you drank the blood, Sam thought.

The young man opened his eyes, staring at the Devil's trap on the ceiling.

"They would have hurt me," Sam breathed, and mentally kicked himself for sounding so weak.

You could have refused, Sam told himself, you could have said 'no'. Just like with Lucifer.

Sam shuddered and sat up. If he had not taken the blood, what would Tim and Reggie have done then? Torture him again? Threaten to harm another innocent?

One way or another, Sam had a feeling, he would have been drinking that blood before long.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, wishing he was anywhere but in that demon-proof room.

Closing his eyes and curling up, Sam forced his mind to be clear of all thoughts. He was exhausted and all he wanted to do was sleep. His stomach rumbled hungrily but he ignored it; just the thought of the oatmeal sitting in the bowl across the room made him feel ill.

Sleep quickly claimed Sam, pulling him down into an uneasy rest, full of dreams riddled with guilt and hopelessness.

_SPN_

Cas was really starting to annoy Dean. The young man hated the angel asking him where Sam was. As if he knew! He had no idea where Sam could be. If Cas was so concerned about him, why didn't he go looking for Sam?

Sam wasn't Dean's responsibility anymore, he'd made that clear when he went behind his older sibling's back and shacked-up with a demon. Dean washed his hands of Sam. If he wasn't going to listen to him, Dean didn't see any sense in worrying about him. Sam was an adult after all, he didn't need Dean there to wipe his nose and tie his shoes.

Just thinking about Sam and his betrayal made Dean's blood boil. The eldest Winchester saw red as he stared out his baby's windshield at the highway stretching out ahead of him. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Dean fiddled with the Impala's radio, trying to find a good classic Rock station.

"…I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride," Bon Jovi belted out from the speakers, "I'm wanted dead or alive… wanted dead or alive!"

Dean quickly turned off the radio, a lump in his throat. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and Dean swore.

Pulling over onto the gravel shoulder of the road, Dean bit his lower lip, trying to get a grip on his emotions.

"Now is not the time for a chick-flick moment," Dean told himself, "Damn it!"

Reaching out for the power button for the stereo again, Dean cautiously turned it on and sighed in relief when a Bob Seger song played.

Chuckling embarrassedly to himself, the eldest Winchester pulled back onto the highway and continued on his way, quickly forgetting about his brother once again.

_SPN_

Sam looked up balefully when the door opened and Tim and Lloyd stepped inside the room.

He remained where he was, sitting on the old, lumpy mattress, his back against the brick wall.

"Time to go," the blond-haired hunter announced and Sam stood slowly.

Lloyd came forward and grabbed Sam's arm roughly, pulling him towards the door. Tim held the door open so that he was following the larger hunter and the young man as they began to make their way down the long hallway.

What was happening? Sam wondered, where they going after another demon? If so, why hadn't they made him drink any blood.

They stepped out of the doorway with the broken 'Exit' sign above it and Sam saw the same panel van idling in the parking lot but this time there was a pale blue, slightly rusted pickup truck behind it, Alma sitting in the passenger's seat.

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Why were all the hunters coming along?

Lloyd opened the backdoor to the van and pushed Sam inside. This time the hunters didn't bother with handcuffs, Lloyd simply shut and locked the van door and Sam was plunged into darkness.

The young man backed himself into a corner and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Five minutes later the vehicle lurched forward and headed out of the parking lot, Reggie driving and Tim riding shotgun. Alma and Lloyd must have been following in the pickup truck.

_W_

Hours passed before the van ground to a halt. Both Tim and Reggie got out and Sam waited nervously for the backdoors to open. When nothing happened, Sam began to grow fearful.

Maybe something had happened. Maybe the hunters had decided to strand him here, locked in the back of the van, his location unknown.

As much as Sam hated to think about it, he didn't think Tim and Reggie would go to all the trouble of kidnapping and torturing him, driving him out to some deserted stretch of road and leave him to starve; if they really wanted to kill him, they could have shot him at anytime while he had been trapped in the room with the Devil's trap.

The driver's door opened and Tim sat down, turning on the engine and continuing onward slowly.

Sam's heart beat nervously but he dared not speak up. The hunters, once again, had traveled silently, not even turning on the radio. Sam knew that he would be told what was going on if the hunters decided he needed to, which wasn't likely.

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion when the van stopped again and Tim cut the engine. The door opened suddenly and the blond hunter gestured impatiently for Sam to get out.

Slowly, his muscles cramped from the long period of inactivity, Sam climbed out of the van and stood up. He saw that the van was parked in front of a motel- one that looked like it booked rooms by the hour, but a motel nonetheless- that was extremely quiet. Besides the van and Lloyd and Alma's pickup, there were only five other cars in the parking lot. It was nearly dark out, the streetlights on the edge of the parking lot painting the asphalt in pools of orange.

Before Sam could even think about making a run for it, Tim grabbed his arm and steered him towards the room directly in front of the van, number thirteen.

The door was already open, Reggie setting out his various weapons, preparing to clean them. Tim yanked on Sam's arm, forcing him to sit down on the brown, spotty carpet.

"What are we doing here?" Sam ventured cautiously.

"There's a demon here," Reggie replied simply, as if Sam were slow.

Of course, why else would they be in this skuzzy motel room? Sam thought and glanced around, taking in the familiar layout of the room. It was just like any other motel he and Dean would have shared. There was nothing particularly special about it apart from the out-of-date radiator underneath the window.

Tim shrugged out of his coat, dropping it on one of the beds and walked over to Reggie, talking to the dark-skinned hunter in a low voice so Sam could not hear their conversation.

Sam watched the two hunters as they seemed to come to some sort of agreement and Reggie pulled a pair of handcuffs from his duffle bag. He approached Sam, swinging the cuffs leisurely.

"Get up."

Sam did so. He knew he wouldn't be able to fight off both hunters, especially with such an array of weaponry within easy reach. He looked longingly at a knife with an eight-inch long serrated blade, similar to one in his own duffle.

Impatiently Reggie grabbed his left wrist and yanked him towards the radiator.

"On your knees," he growled, clearly not in the mood to wait and Sam obeyed.

Looping the chain through one of the water pipes in the front of the radiator, Reggie locked the cuffs around Sam's wrists. Next, the hunter pulled a bandana from his jacket pocket, crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into Sam's mouth.

The young man watched the hunter walk back towards his weapons collection, his expression sad.

Reggie and Tim ignored Sam for the most part during the rest of the evening, not even glancing in his direction as they talked to one another.

Sam, shifted uncomfortably, pulling his legs out from beneath himself when his knees began to ache. His mouth grew dry, the gag soaking up all his saliva.

The young man watched silently as Tim left the room, only to return twenty minutes later with take-out. Sam was not offered anything to eat.

Lowering his head and resting his brow against one of the pipes, Sam closed his eyes, wanting only to sleep.

_W_

Sam took the bottle of demon blood from Tim, wanting nothing more than to smash it into the hunter's face.

He didn't know where the older man was getting the stuff, perhaps he had a stash, having been prepared to kidnap him should things go sideways back in Garber.

With both men watching, Sam drank the blood, hating himself for doing so.

Once he was finished, Reggie released Sam from the radiator, pocketing the handcuffs.

"Now you won't have any fuck-ups today, will we?" Tim asked in a condescending tone. Sam shook his head. He had to kill the demon, not just exorcise it, make sure it was stone-cold dead.

"Good! This should be easy then," the blond hunter smirked and gripped Sam's shoulder painfully, reminding him of who was really in control.

The trio left the motel room, the sun not even touching the horizon and the sky a cold grey. Alma and Lloyd exited their own motel room, looking ready to take on the day. Sam had the distinct feeling the hunters were not telling him something; why were all four coming along?

Reggie opened the back of the van and gestured Sam inside.

Once Sam was sitting inside, the answer came to him: they were going after more than just one demon.

_W_

Sam's nose wrinkled at the stench of blood and guts as he got out of the van. Although the slaughterhouse was no longer in use, the stench of death lingered on.

The four hunters around him were grim and serious, weapons ready.

Lloyd gave Sam a shove and he moved forward, walking silently out of habit.

Reggie tugged open on the the slaughterhouse's rusted metal doors and stepped inside, motioning for the others to continue once all was clear. As soon as Sam crossed the threshold he sensed the demons. He could not tell how many there were but there were certain more than two hunters could take on.

The hunters split up, Tim and Reggie brining Sam with them, and traveled further into the dilapidated building.

"Where are they?" the blond hunter hissed to the young man and Sam pointed down a long, dark corridor. It looked to Sam like something out of a horror movie. There were even splashes of a brownish liquid- blood- dried on the walls.

"You first," Reggie growled and shoved Sam in front of him and Tim.

Sam could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples, nearly hear his own heart pick up speed as he walked quietly down the hallway.

The young man stopped at the door at the end of the corridor and glanced over his shoulder. Tim and Reggie pulled out their guns and Sam flung the door wide.

A half-dozen men and women stood in a room that must have been the 'killing floor'; dried blood coated the floor as it had flowed towards the drains in the cement and meat hooks hung from the ceiling.

A gunshot sounded and one of the demons- its host a man in his forties with a handlebar moustache- staggered back with a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead.

As one, the demons ran at the hunters, ignoring the bullet wounds their bodies sustained from Tim and Reggie's guns.

Sam took a breath and concentrated. Even if he didn't want to do this, he had to now. If he didn't, the demons were liable to rip him apart. He felt the familiar pressure building, the wellspring of power beginning to overflow.

Hand splayed out, Sam concentrated on the demon charging towards him, its host a petite woman with jaw-length blonde hair and grey eyes.

Please forgive me, Sam thought and clenched his hand into a fist, willing the demon before him to die.

The monster stopped suddenly and let out a blood-curdling shriek, lightning crawling over the woman's body, her skin glowing red and orange in places. Sam's eyes narrowed to mere slits as he continued to forced to demon to cease to exist. The host crumpled to the floor, motionless.

Sam lifted his hand to wipe at his nose when he was hit from behind and staggered forward, landing on his hands and knees from the force of the blow.

He gasped when he felt someone grab his hair with inhuman strength and yank his head back.

"Nice to see you, Sammy," the demon hissed, its host's bad breath forming a repulsive cloud around the youngest Winchester's face.

Gritting his teeth, Sam tried to reach back and dislodge his attacker but the demon pulled his head back even further, agony shooting through his neck and down his spine.

"I know someone who's dying to see you again," the demon told him smugly and Sam's heart skipped a beat.

Before the demon could continue, its host body died with a bullet through the throat, spraying Sam with blood. The young man pulled himself from the monster's grip and raised a hand, destroying the demon before it could get its bearings.

Sam staggered to his feet and took in the scene around him. Two demons were dead but that still left four that were relentlessly attacking Tim and Reggie. Sam knew he could easily walk away, let the hunters face the creatures alone but Dean's words stopped him: _Atone for what you've done! God knows its the least you can do._ Sam knew it wasn't really Dean speaking, that it had been a dream, but he couldn't help it; he didn't need anymore blood on his hands, even if it was Tim and Reggie's.

Sam held his right hand out, directly at the demons and focused all his energy on killing them. He had never destroyed more than one demon at a time and he quickly felt the power being sapped from him. He stumbled forwards as the monsters shrieked and convulsed, lightning flaring from them. The demons dropped like flies, leaving the two hunters standing dumbfounded.

Sam sank to his knees, blood running down from his nose and his head feeling as though it was going to crack open. He closed his eyes and groaned in pain.

He fought weakly when the two hunters grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, he just wanted to lay down and rest, regain his strength, but Tim and Reggie would not let him. They ushered him from the room and Sam leaned tiredly against the wall as Tim searched his jacket pockets.

"Here," the blond hunter held out a small vial of demon blood, "Drink."

Sam tried to push Tim's hand away but Reggie pulled him away from the wall, holding his arms behind him. Sam struggled feebly as Tim shoved the vial into his mouth.

"Drink it!" he snarled and pinched Sam's nose closed.

The younger man obeyed and drank the blood, some of it dribbling down his chin. Tim dropped the vial on the floor and wiped his hands on his jacket as though he'd been touching something dirty.

"Let's go find Lloyd and Alma," Reggie released Sam's hands and the young man wiped half-heartedly at his face.

_W_

Nine demons. It had to be a record.

Sam lay on his side in the van, completely exhausted. He shivered and hugged his arms to his middle.

Wiping at his still dripping nose, Sam closed his eyes, hoping Tim and Reggie would let him sleep.

He neck ached from the demon's attack, sending sharp pain down Sam's back whenever he turned.

The hunters themselves were in a celebratory mood; the only other injuries had occurred when a demon had thrown Alma into a wall, giving the woman a slight concussion and a large goose-egg on the side of her head.

Sam's eyes opened when the van stopped and the engine was turned off, the ride ending all too soon. Sitting up painfully, Sam squinted in the light from the parking lot when the door was opened. Sam exited the vehicle as fast as he could; not fast enough for Reggie, who shoved him roughly in the back and then laughed when Sam nearly fell face-first onto the pavement.

"Reg! Can't you see he's exhausted?" Alma exclaimed and helped Sam straighten up, wiping his sweaty bangs away from his forehead as though she was his mother.

"So?" the dark-skinned hunter pointed out, "Who cares? You?"

Alma put her hands on her hips, "How's he going to kill demons for us if he's dead on his feet?"

Lloyd pulled the female hunter away from Sam, "You've got a heart of gold, Babe, always looking out for others."

Rolling his eyes, Reggie pushed Sam towards the open motel room door. Once the two hunters and Sam were inside, the young man was once again handcuffed to the radiator and gagged. Sam, though, was too tired to care much. He couldn't lay down but he didn't mind, he'd sleep sitting up. Closing his eyes gratefully, the young man was asleep within seconds, completely oblivious to the world around him, thankfully, for at least a few hours.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to mandancie, angeleyenc, Sylvie91, SPN Mum, reannablue, MysteryMadchen, pinkbelle, doyleshuny, SamDeanLover28, baby reaper, BranchSuper, sarah, rohopretender, L.A.H.H, Souless666, Yami's Devil, and Guests for reviewing.**

**2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed or favourited. **

**3. I know a lot of you are really, really pissed at Dean right now and wish he'd get his head out of his ass but you're all just going to have to wait a little bit longer for him to get the message. Without our buddy Zachariah to show what the future has in store for the brothers, Dean is going to continue to believe that's Sam's just peachy. Don't worry, soon Dean will realize that Sam's not drinking cerveza in Mexico. Far from it.**

**4. Reviews are love!**


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